The seemingly endless tears stream down my face,
relentless.
They drip on the picture of you,
smudging the ink.
The picture I carry everywhere.
The picture that means so much to me,
my everything.
Now the ink is smeared,
the tears from the pain,
blotting out your face,
mixing the colors together,
to form a messy blob.
I hate having to be ripped away from you